


Parties and Yellow Bathrooms

by TinfoilCrowns



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23391550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinfoilCrowns/pseuds/TinfoilCrowns
Summary: He takes an unsteady step towards her, and it sets off alarm bells in Clarke’s head. Bellamy’s drunk, and she’s a little tipsy, and the last thing they need is to reopen whatever this was.“I just wanna go home Bellamy.”He takes another step forward, until he’s standing right in front of her. Clarke holds her ground, not giving in to whatever game he’s trying to play. He reaches out anyway, twirling a piece of her hair around his finger.“What? Did I ruin your party, princess?”
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 197





	Parties and Yellow Bathrooms

**Author's Note:**

> my first go at this, please be easy on me !

She told herself she wasn’t going to do this anymore. 

She stopped returning his calls, stopped reading his text messages. She downloaded tinder for the first time in her life, even though she has yet to do anything with it. Clarke wasn’t in high school anymore, and she was sick of playing all these stupid games. Whatever her and Bellamy had was too complicated; it was too messy. She was tired of all the arguing. Tired of him not trusting her. Tired of his jealousy. Sick of having to act like his mother instead of his girlfriend. 

And she told herself this, over and over again, all night long. She didn’t want to be at this party in the first place, but she couldn’t talk Raven out of it. Apparently the house belonged to some small town celebrity and there was no way they could miss it, because everyone from Arcadia would be there. And it didn’t help Clarke couldn’t explain to her friend that, even though she swears she’s over him, she didn’t want to go because she knew Bellamy would be here. So she was forced to be here, drinking cheap vodka and pretending she wasn’t hiding. 

Clarke bit the edge of her red cup at the sound of his laugh, loud even over the noise of the speakers in the packed living room. He was across the room from her, almost out of sight, but close enough to still make her uneasy. She tried to focus on the conversation in front of her, Raven and some kid she vaguely remembers buying weed from a couple weeks ago. Murphy, if she remembers right. Raven laughs at something he says in the high pitched way she does when she’s flirting, lays her hand on the boy‘s arm, and it’s all it takes for Clarke to lose interest.

Her eyes scan the room, looking for any excuse to take a walk. She refuses to even look in his direction, but there isn’t much else to look at. There isn’t anyone Clarke recognizes in sight, and anyone she might know is probably in the corner playing beer pong with him. But it’s fine, really. Clarkr figures ten more minutes of small talk, she’ll finish her cup, and hopefully she can slip out without anyone noticing she even left. 

Set on her new plan, Clarke takes a large sip of her drink and makes a break for the long hallway. She’s hoping to find a bathroom, and maybe a second of peace and quiet. She snakes herself through the crowd of college students, holding down the front of her short, flowy skirt, just trying to avoid any accidents.

She slips into the hallway and starts to test each door. The first two are locked, and the third one opens up to a small towel closet. When she opens the fourth door she finds a small bedroom. The room is dark, but the noises she hears coming from inside are enough for her to shut the door as fast as she opened it. 

When the fifth door opens to reveal a pale yellow bathroom she’s relieved. This whole night has put her on edge. If it wasn’t bad enough that Bellamy was here, Raven’s been busy with that guy the entire night, and she definitely wasn’t trying to be a cockblock. Especially when Clarke hasn’t had sex in months, and she felt like that might leave her with some sort of bad karma. Like stopping Raven from getting laid would extend her drought even more. 

Closing the door softly behind her, she looked at her reflection. She pulled on the bottom of her skirt, hoping to bring the black material further down her thighs. Her crop top belonged to Raven, but she wasn’t sure she ever planned on actually returning it. The metallica logo was worn, but the material was tight and hugged her boobs like no shirt she owed ever did. It had thick straps that never fell off her shoulders, and showed plenty of cleavage. It was her favorite shirt, and tonight was the first time she had gotten to wear it out.

She smoothed down the hair escaping from her ponytail, and pulled loose some extra fringe around her face. The pink was almost fully faded now, and her hair was a good four inches longer than it was. Clarke knew cutting your hair is something every girl does in the movies after a bad break up, and usually she made fun of that kind of thing, but there was something about it that felt a little like revenge. After all, Bellamy was always telling her how much he loved her hair. That she looked like Rapunzal, with it all long and golden. He even started calling her princess. He played with it constantly, always pulled out her hair tie to wrap his hands in it during sex. He said it was the first thing he ever noticed about her. 

So after their last fight, when he told her she was gonna end up exactly like her mother, bitter and alone, she cut it all off. As short as she could stand it. Raven bought cheap boxed dye and the girls spent all night putting hot pink streaks in her hair. And it had felt really good, like she was starting over. But nothing compared to how thrilled she felt when she saw the look in his eyes as he saw it for the first time. Even now, the memory brings a smile to Clarke’s lips. There was just something about breaking his composure that made Clarke feel so powerful. 

“No,” she mutters, shaking herself out of the memory. This is exactly what she was trying to get away from. “No more games, and no more trying to hurt each other. This is exactly why we didn’t work.”

“Who didn’t work?”

Clarke gasped, and spun to follow the voice, but she knew who it belonged to before she ever saw him. Bellamy was standing in the door frame, smirk on his lips. He was wearing a simple black shirt and a pair of dark washed jeans. His hair is wild, and his face is flushed, the way it gets when he’s been drinking. She hates how attracted she is to him, even after everything.

“What are you doing in here?” She replied, trying not to sound so out of breath. She had stumbled backwards when she saw him, a mix of the alcohol she’d drank and the shock of having him so close. It’d been months since she'd responded to his texts, let alone been in the same room as him, and Clarke kinda felt like she was losing it.

“Came to wash my hands”. He held them up almost as proof, wiggling his fingers. “Miller spilt beer everywhere trying to impress some kid.” 

He stepped further into the bathroom, taking the space in front of the mirror, where Clarke had just been. He turns on the water, and starts to wash the residue of his hands. Part of her wants to escape while he’s busy, but she couldn’t do that without squeezing beside him, and Clarke was trying to keep as much space between them as she could. A different part of her, a part she refused to acknowledge, didn’t want to leave the room at all.

“You didn’t feel like knocking?” She snipped, annoyed he still had this much power over her. 

Bellamy’s smirk gets wider, like he knows exactly how she feels, like he knows exactly what she’s thinking. She used to love the way he could read her mind, but now it felt unfair. 

“You didn’t feel like locking the door?” He pauses, then looks up and makes eye contact with her through the mirror, and suddenly all the humor is gone from his face. “Unless, of course, you were waiting for someone else.”

Clarke crosses her arms and tries to not to notice the way his eyes follow her movements, or how they land on her chest. “That’s none of your business.”

She regrets it almost as soon as it leaves her mouth. Bellamy’s eyes snap back to hers, and he chuckles, but it lacks amusement. He turns off the water, and dries his hands by rubbing them on his jeans. 

“None of my business, huh?”. He closes the door behind him, and twists the lock in place. He sounds bitter, like he disagrees but has no say in it.

“Look, I don’t wanna fight with you, so move out of the way and i’ll leave.” Clarke does her best to sound steady, maybe even angry, but the nerves have already begun to make her hands shake. She knows him, better than anyone else in the world, and whatever he has planned won’t end well. 

“What, got some boyfriend to run off to?” It comes out teasing, but his eyes are black, the way they get when he’s jealous. He takes an unsteady step towards her, and it sets off alarm bells in Clarkes‘ head. Bellamy’s drunk, and she’s a little tipsy, and the last thing they need is to reopen whatever this was. 

“I just wanna go home Bellamy.”

He takes another step forward, until he’s standing right in front of her. Clarke holds her ground, not giving in to whatever game he’s trying to play. He reaches out anyway, twirling a piece of her hair around his finger.

“What? Did I ruin your party, princess?”

The name makes her flinch. It feels like he’s crossing a line somehow, but she ignores it. Her heart is pounding in her chest, and it’s hard to concentrate with his hand still wrapped in her hair, so she pulls away. The pink strand slips out from between his fingers, but it doesn’t faze him. Bellamy reaches forward and places both palms flat against the wall behind her, trapping her against him. She does her best not to react, but her knees have gone weak. 

Clarke hates how much control he has over her body. They way her heart flutters just being this close to him. For a second her eyes drift to where her cup sits abandoned on the counter. Her mouth has gone dry, but her tongue snakes out to wet her bottom lip anyway. She watches as Bellamy’s eyes drop to follow the movement, and resists the urge to do it again. 

“I guess i’ll have to make it up to you,” he whispers.

She knows she should push him off, maybe even tell him to go fuck himself, but she doesn’t. Instead she watches as he dips his head. Bellamy leans forward, not asking for permission before he places his lips on her neck, and Clarke opens up for him despite herself.

The first touch is light, like he’s waiting for her to react. His lips ghost across the place where her neck and jaw meet once, and then twice, before he finally gives in. 

His hands fall from their place by her head. One drops to her waist, pulling her closer, and the other cups the back of her neck, pulling to give himself more room. This time his lips part, and he pulls at the skin with his teeth, before soothing it with his tongue. Clarke’s hand goes to the back of his head without direction, and the other falls flat against his chest. 

“Bellamy, we can’t...”, Clarke whimpers, and she hates how wrecked she sounds when he’s barely even touched her.

Bellamy hums against her throat, but doesn’t stop the trail of open mouth kisses he leaves down her neck and chest. Her eyes are closed and her head falls backwards, thumping against the wall. She can hear the music from the living room vibrating through it. Bellamy moves lower, his tongue dipping to lick the skin of her breast coming out of the top of her shirt. He sucks at the skin long enough to leave a mark before pulling back completely. 

Clarke only has a second to feel disappointed, lifting her head and opening her eyes, before his lips are on hers. 

The kiss is aggressive and desperate. He pulls at her jaw, not even giving her the choice to open up for him. Clarke moans into his mouth. He tastes like whiskey, and she chases it with her tongue. They fight for dominance for a second, before she surrenders, and lets him take control. 

Clarke feels his hands wrap around the bottom of her thighs, and suddenly she is in the air. He spins them around, placing her on the counter and knocking her cup into the sink. He pulls away from her mouth, but only long enough to slip the shirt off of his head. He pulls one more kiss from her lips, before going back down her throat. This time when he meets the skin at the edge of her collar, his fingers snake under the bottom of her shirt. Clarke lifts her arms, letting him pull it off of her completely. 

Bellamy’s eyes are blown, and his lips are red. She watches him look at her, and a moan escapes when he reaches to cup her tits in his hands. He finds her eyes at the sound, and the smirk comes back full force. He finds her nipple beneath the lacy fabric, and rolls it between two fingers.

“So pretty, baby. Wear this just for me?”

“Shut up.”

Clarke knows she should be mad, or annoyed with herself, but she’s too worked up to care. She reaches a hand behind his head instead and brings his lips back to hers, desperate for more. He laughs, but kisses her back anyway. This time it's Clarke’s turn to pull away. She leaves a trail down his throat with her tongue, while her hands fall to start at the buckle of his belt.

“Always so impatient.” He reaches around and undoes the back of her bra, and slides the straps down her shoulders, before pulling back. Clarke pulls the bra off entirely, and tosses it to the side. 

Bellamy drops his head, pulling her nipple into his mouth. He works his tongue over it for a moment, then switches to the other breast. Clarke moans at the sensation, and continues to work at undoing his pants. She pulls his belt off and discards it, before sliding down his zipper and slipping her small hand inside to wrap around his cock. She rubs her thumb around the head, and twists her hand the way she knows he likes. 

“Fuck princess. Can’t wait, got to feel you around me.”

Bellamy pushes her hands away and picks her up, placing her on her feet before spinning her around. By now Clarke’s soaked, desperate for friction. She balances her elbows on the counter in front of her, and lets Bellamy flip up her skirt. She feels him slide her underwear to the side, and it’s the only warning she gets before he’s pressing himself inside of her. 

She’d almost forgotten how big he was, but the burn she feels as he stretches her out is enough of a reminder. He doesn’t take it easy on her either, thrusting himself in completely, pulling out and pushing back into her again. He grabs her hips with both hands, and holds her still while he fucks into her.

“Too fast,” she chokes out, letting her head fall against the cold granite. 

“You can take it,” he growls. “Take it for me baby.” 

She moans at his words, and tries to relax around him. His cock is hot and heavy inside of her. It makes her feel full in the best way possible. He keeps up the steady pace, telling her just how good it feels, or how pretty she looks like this. Soon enough the sting is replaced by need, and she is trusting herself back against him. 

“That’s it princess, take my cock. Missed you so much baby. Bet nobody fucked you like this, huh?”

“Fuck, Bell, feels so good.”

He speeds up at her words, and reaches forward to wrap his hand around her ponytail. He finds the band and pulls it out, and the sting has Clarke clenching down on his dick. Bellamy tangles his hand in her hair and pulls her head up from the counter.

“I want you to look, baby. Watch yourself get fucked. Taking my dick so good, like such a good girl.”

She does what she’s told, like the good girl she is, and studies herself in the mirror. Her hair is wild, and her face is flushed. Her pupils are wider than the time Jasper talked her into taking shrooms, and her lips are raw and puffy. She looks hot, and the part of her that’s attracted to women can’t deny it.

But Bellamy is something else entirely. He’s sweating, and biting the bottom of his lip, which is as red and puffy as hers. His skin is darker than normal, which means his team’s been holding practices outside, and his freckles have tripled. She can see his chest, hard and muscular, flexing as he moves to fuck her. And if she bends forward a little more, she can see where they meet. She watches as his cock slips in and out of her, pressing herself further into the counter to get a better look. Clarke lifts her ass higher in the air, and watches as he brings a heavy hand down to smack it. She goans and he smacks her again, harder this time and on the other cheek. Their eyes meet through the mirror, like he’s been watching her the whole time, and she can’t help but beg.

“Please, Bell, I need it.”

“I know baby, but you’re gonna have to ask for it.”

“Please make me cum, baby. Please,” she gave in immediately. She knew she should be embarrassed, but she was just so close and couldn’t quite reach it. Tears were starting to gather in her eyes, and her movements were getting short and sloppy. It was like she was rubber band stretched as far as it could go. Clarke was desperate to reach her orgasm, and she could deal with the repercussions tomorrow. 

“Tell me princess, you let anyone else fuck you, huh? Anyone else been inside this pussy? You been a good girl for me, baby?”

“No, Bell. Only you. I’ve been so good baby, please.”

“Fuck, of course you have,” he grunted. Bellamy let go of her hair to wrap his hand around her throat, pulling her back onto his cock. He leaned forward, his chest now against her back, and wrapped his other arm around her waist. He slipped two fingers on to her clit, rubbing lazy circles around it. His thrust were fast and hard, and every stroke dug the counter a little harder into her hips. He leaned into her ear and whispered, “Cum on my cock pretty girl. Want everyone to hear you.”

It was like her body was waiting for permission. As soon as he said it, the rubber band snapped, and Clarke came apart. Her pussy clenched around him, and she couldn’t stop the words flowing out of her mouth, “Fuck, Bellamy! Yes, yes, yes! Oh my god!”. 

He thrusted into a few more times before burying himself in her as far as he could. She felt his cock twitch as he came inside of her. 

They laid like that for a minute, tangled and out of breath. He let go of her throat, and tangled his hand back into her hair so that he could turn her mouth to meet his. This kiss was slower, lazier than the others. More about the feeling, and less about being horny.

He was the first to pull away, slipping his cock out of her. They cleaned themselves up in silence, Clarke taking this time to pee. He gathered her clothes as she washed her hands, and by the time she had her bra on, he was fully dressed. 

“Let me take you home.” He watched as she pulled the shirt back over her head.

“Are you still drunk?”

“A little,” he admits, almost sheepishly. This was always her favorite Bellamy, the one after sex. When all his guards are down, and he’s soft around the edges. “But I mean it, baby. I’ve been going crazy without you. This time will be different, I promise.”

“You always say that,” she argued, but stepped towards him anyway. 

“But you’ve never left me before,” he grabbed her face in both hands, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “I learned my lesson, Princess. Let me prove it to you.” His eyes were wide, and he looked sincere. It reminded her of when they were teenagers, and he first told her he loved her.

“One fuck in some random bathroom doesn’t change anything, it doesn’t change what you said to me.” It couldn’t. All of this couldn’t just be for nothing. She was a different person then she was four months ago. 

“You’re right, so let me take you home. We can talk about it tomorrow, or the next day. As long as you’re still talking to me, baby. I’ve changed, I promise.” He leaned forward, kissing her slow and soft. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me Bellamy Blake,” she groaned, already tired of fighting it. 

“Never,” he promised.


End file.
